September 30, 2012
By Quispiam BRONZE, Oakton, Virginia
Quispiam BRONZE, Oakton, Virginia
3 articles 5 photos 3 comments

Favorite Quote:

Don’t look at them. Just keep walking.

Silenced whispers whip her as she makes her way through the hall. She turns into a louder corner of the school and the second they see her they’re quiet, accusative, glaring at her like they've never seen anything so revolting. Then a boy whispers something to his friend. The hall erupts in a cruel, tormenting laughter. She even heard some people chanting, and she teared up when she saw her old best friend join in. They called her a whore, a slut.

You’re so pathetic. Her mind started to join their jeers, and then the girl started running. Faster, faster. She flew through the halls, avoiding bodies and glares. She saw the disappointed looks of the teachers, and they reminded her of her parents faces when they heard.
She ran faster.

Soon she was done weaving through the halls, and raced out the front door. She was halfway across the street when she saw him on the other side, smiling that evil charismatic grin. Then she heard a scream, not sure if it was her own, as she turned her head to see the school bus reel towards her way too fast.
She closed her eyes.

When she opened her eyes, she was sweating, staring at the white ceiling. She kicked off her burning sheets and turned over to see her phone light up with a text. It was from him. She took a deep breath, and typed a single word:

The author's comments:
You can use this article in two different scenarios, both of which leave a huge scar on any girls that experiance it.

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